Widow Maker

Dr. Johansen sat in the cafeteria soaking up the winter sun through large windows. He had a procedure scheduled in half an hour and knew he should be scrubbing in. Operating was a chilly sport and he did not want to leave the delicious warmth of the sun. Soaking up the remaining grease with his second order of fries, he promised himself he would start eating better. He'd find time to exercise as well.

Just that morning, he had sent a nurse for a new box of gloves because his hands no longer fit into the large size typically stocked for him. Looking at his plate, he sighed. There were a few bites left. He was full, but didn't want to throw that little bit out. Grabbing the fries, he popped them into his mouth and then took a big swig of his Coke. It was likely to be his last good meal for a while he thought, trying to justify his actions. Guilt settled in immediately.

"Hey Mark!" said a peppy voice. He looked up to see Laura looking down at him. Laura was gorgeous. She had a slim frame and the clearest olive skin he had ever seen. Her dark hair was pulled up tightly, a requirement of any women who worked in sterile environments. Last month at the Holiday part was the only time he had ever seen her wear it down. Falling asleep that night had been difficult. He couldn't sop fantasizing about her.

"Laura," he gestured to a chair, smiling warmly at her. Sitting down, she placed her tray on the table. Laura had a large salad, bowl of soup, and single bread stick on her tray. The worst health offender was the raspberry iced-tea she had just lifted up. He remembered a short conversation in which she had confessed to it being her weakness. That and chocolate.

Glancing at the table, she asked if someone else was sitting there. Dr. Johnansen blushed. He had four plates stacked next to him. Each had been filled with fatty fried foods. "No, no, no. Just couldn't decide what I wanted today and went with a sampling."

Laura smiled as she picked up a knife and began cutting a tomato into bite-sized pieces. "I've had those days myself. I had so many of those days that I was 75 pounds overweight. That's not to say that I am perfect. Comfort food is still comforting and I still eat way too much of it on occasion." Mark smiled, grateful for the graciousness in which she could handle such delicate situations and sure she was lying. "But then I remember a class I took in med school when I was considering becoming a cardiologist."

"Yeah?" Mark was curious. He knew he had been overweight for a while now. He hadn't stood on a scale, but was pretty sure he needed to loose at least 75 pounds. Geesh! He'd just eaten a handful of fries after promising himself he'd eat better and exercise. Maybe whatever she learned in that cardiology class could help motivate him along the right path too. "What was that?"

"We all have a widow maker inside us. And if we don't appease it, it has a direct line to the heart. Somehow that struck home." Mark sat silently, nodding his head. He'd forgotten about the widow maker a long time ago. "Anyway, it kind of saved my life." She paused a moment and looked into Mark's eyes. "Now I'm looking for a different kind of line to my heart." She held his gaze a little longer before returning to her salad.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***